


Unfinished CSI Thing

by outruntheavalanche



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, F/M, Gen, Not!Fic, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:44:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9897140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/pseuds/outruntheavalanche
Summary: She smells like stage 3 decomp; the thick, heavy stench clings to her hair, her skin, her clothing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Found this in a discarded fic folder.

She smells like stage 3 decomp; the thick, heavy stench clings to her hair, her skin, her clothing. Her cheeks are ruddy and her eyes are wild. She’s never looked more beautiful. You’ve never wanted to kiss her more than you do now.

You ask, _What happened_ , and she stares at you, thin fingers reaching up to unbutton a soggy olive green jacket.

You ask, _Are you okay, Sara?_

 _More okay than the DB NIck and I pulled out of a septic tank tonight_ , she says, with a brittle, crackling laugh, shedding the jacket with a sloppy, disgusting _splurch_. She stoops down and picks up the jacket between her thumb and forefinger. _This’ll need to be processed_ , she says. Sara unlaces her boots and steps out of them. _All of this_ , she says, gesturing to her boots and her pants.

You say, _I’ll get that to trace,_ and you take the jacket. 

_Thanks, Neal_. Sara pulls a small silver tape recorder out of her pocket, says, _Body was in the third stage of decomposition_.

You take the jacket and her boots, and turn your head modestly as she unzips her pants and slips out of them. She tosses them into your arms and you steal a glance-- just a tiny one-- as she pulls a pair of old, lived-in sweatpants out of a paper bag and steps into them.

You quickly turn your head and do as she asked.

-

 _\-- DB exploded on me_ , you hear. Sara’s voice. She sounds distraught. _Don’t know what we did wrong--_

 _Wasn’t anything you or Nick did, Sara_ , and it’s Grissom she’s talking to. His tone is patient, solid.

Sara says, _I-- I know_ , but she sounds hesitant, as if she doesn’t really believe the words that are coming out of her mouth. _Just can’t help thinking of all the evidence we lost._

You step back in. Sara is holding a Styrofoam cup of warm coffee in her hands, Grissom’s plaid shirt draped over her shoulders.


End file.
